Page 39 of M.M. Scrooge
Smack. Smack. Smack…
A swift round of punishing spanks sting one cheek, then the other until I lose count. Fuck. So many. I resist the urge to squirm. Force myself still as a statue.
He stops as suddenly as he began and removes both hands, leaving the stinging sensation to throb without mitigation and nothing else for me to focus on but the literal pain in my ass. The warm air of the room cools the heated skin of my backside. I must be bright red.
My mind is spinning, probably because my traitorous cock is hogging all the blood supply. It hardens between Drake’s thighs, and I have to shift to keep that secret to myself.
“He likes it.” Ash again, sounding very sure of himself, though it’s clear he likes this more than I do. His cock is flushed almost purple, and he’s gripping the base like he’s trying to calm down, prolong the experience.
“Do you, Max?” Drake’s baritone rumble. His words vibrate through my body, finally giving me a new sensation to focus on.
“No.”
“Don’t mutter. I’m not sure I believe you. Perhaps if we try again.”
Before I can protest, a hard strike jolts me through my core. My ass is on fire. Another strike. Another. Until I’m biting my forearm to escape the onslaught.
This time he soothes the abused flesh with the light touch of his fingers dancing over each cheek.
Fuck. I’ve drooled on my arm. I fight the need to rub myself all over his big thighs. My aching shaft wants friction, but I won’t succumb.
“Do you want to hit him, baby?”
Ash nods an enthusiastic yes, and I’m about to sigh in relief—no way can Ash hit as hard as Drake—when Drake stretches, reaches his long arm behind the couch, and comes back with a brown leather flogger in his clutches.
My abs clench. “I agreed to be spanked, not whipped.”
“Feel free to say your word, Max. You remember it, right?”
I snort an angry huff through my nose. My shaft has got to be leaking a puddle onto their fancy couch, and it serves them right for this bullshit. “I remember.”
“This stops when you say it. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.”
Shame surges deep in my chest, making me want to curl in on myself, but that means essentially curling into Drake even more than I am already.
I don’t want this. Do I? Not really. I want to get off, but I don’t need to be spanked to do it. I remain stubbornly silent with Drake’s big hand fucking massaging my glutes like he’s about to make bread. It hurts, but I won’t tell him to stop. I can think of another place his giant hand could be put to better use.
He pats my ass like you’d pat a dog that’s fetched the paper. “Up you get.”
What? No way. As much as I’d rather be anywhere else than Drake’s lap, revealing the raging hard-on I’m sporting is a no-go. “Why?”
“Because Ash can’t flog you while you’re in my lap, and I want to see you on your knees for him. Come on.” Another pat to my bottom. I fail to repress a flinch. “Up, up.”
This is so fucking undignified. I scramble off his lap, arms and legs like jelly and for no good reason, and crawl to the floor without really getting to my feet at all.
Drake sees right through this. “It’s only natural your body is responding to our play. It’s nothing to be ashamed of.”
Everything he says irks me but especially calling beating the shit out of me merely play. “I’m fine.”
“You really are,” Ash purrs. He takes the offered flogger from Drake’s extended hand, rises on his tiptoes, and leans in. Drake grants the kiss he’s asking for so prettily, and for a long moment, my world is nothing but the sound of them kissing and the tingling ache in my ass.
Maybe they’ll forget about me, on my hands and knees on their thick slate-gray rug. If I get to come at some point before all this is over, I vow to aim for the twisted fibers of this rug. Leave them with a little parting gift of spunk to remember me by.
All too soon, they break apart, and Ash sets his sights on my rump. “You look gorgeous like this. I knew you would.”
He’s starting to sound like Drake. Gross. But I can’t help it. His praise gets to me despite my reluctance. My cock twitches. It’s everything I can do not to take myself in hand and fucking stroke out the orgasm like water from a firehose. I bite my cheek to keep still.
“Spread your legs a bit more.” Drake, in his stupid, hot voice. “And lean forward on your hands. Let us get a real good look at you, beautiful.”
